


Point of Contact

by ijemanja



Category: Noir (Anime)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-21
Updated: 2007-01-21
Packaged: 2018-02-06 04:25:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1844338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijemanja/pseuds/ijemanja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is completely oblivious right up until the half-second before the tip of Chloe's knife presses under her jaw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Point of Contact

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble series, 6x100 words.

Mireille stands unarmed, unaware, illuminated only by the light from the refrigerator as she stares blankly at its contents. She is completely oblivious right up until the half-second before the tip of Chloe's knife presses under her jaw. In that moment her muscles tense, her eyes widen, but it's already too late.

Chloe is scornful; Mireille's reflexes are slow, her instincts dull. Kirika would never have been caught so unawares. Kirika would have known the moment Chloe opened the window to climb inside. But Kirika is sleeping - if she wasn't, it would be as if none of this ever happened.

 

*

Through the blade, their only point of contact, she feels Mireille tremble. Anger, Chloe thinks, not fear. Frozen in place otherwise, one hand still holding the refrigerator door, there's only that brief tremor that betrays her, along with her voice as she hisses: "What do you want?"

Chloe knows what she wants, and it isn't Mireille. It isn't, it could never be, this woman - too old, too slow, too ordinary.

But this is why she asks herself, what is it about Mireille?

There must be something here, if Altena sees it. There must be something if it makes Kirika stay.

 

*

The air from the fridge is cold on her bare legs and arms. A bead of sweat escapes from her hairline, inches down the back of her neck.

Animals can smell fear, Mireille thinks.

"I'm not afraid of you," she tells the girl threatening to spill her blood, knowing if she had truly wanted to harm her it would have been done already.

The knifepoint twists deeper. Mireille doesn't flinch when she feels her skin break.

"Do you even know what you want, Chloe?"

"I know."

How can this girl be so like Kirika, she wonders, and yet so different?

 

*

The blade tip stained red falls away, Chloe's hand drops to her side. Mireille moves, faces her for the first time. Even in bare feet she looks down on her.

"So what is it then?" she asks, weary suddenly, and it's the adrenaline, she thinks, leaving her body, making her feel this way.

Chloe just stands there, another mystery Mireille doesn't want to solve. But she knows.

"It's this, isn't it."

Mireille touches her, knowing she isn't the one Chloe wants. But it doesn't matter, it's Chloe who's trembling now as Mireille leans in close and whispers in her ear.

 

*

She whispers in Chloe's ear, all the things that pass between them, her and Kirika in the night. Some of it is true, some of it isn't. Chloe listens so intently her imagination must have filled in the rest long ago, Mireille thinks.

While her words hold Chloe enthralled, her hands find the ties and openings of Chloe's clothes, then her narrow hip, then the damp heat between her legs. She's as desperate for this as Mireille knew she'd be. The knife has disappeared and Chloe's nails dig into Mireille's skin instead. Not once does she try to pull away.

 

*

"Mireille?"

Something is wrong, she knows the moment she wakes up, and when she descends from the sleeping area she sees Mireille standing in the moonlit room, looking towards the windows.

"We really need to start closing the windows at night," she says dryly, then sighs and admits: "Chloe was here."

"What happened?"

"Nothing." Mireille pauses. "I don't know what she wanted."

Something must have happened, though, Kirika thinks. And when Mireille turns towards the kitchen, she sees it, dark under her jaw. The blood.

"She hurt you."

Mireille shrugs. "What happens when you play with sharp things, I suppose."


End file.
